Perspective
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: Set during the movie. The knights have a conversation before departing for their last mission. The perspective of one of such knights help the others see things on a better light.


**A/N: **First dive in the category, after watching the movie more than a few times. I decided to go with a during-the-movie oneshot after watching the argument scene at the tavern. While a general fic, it can also be considered a bit of a character study of my own on Tristan. More will be coming, though... I hope. Anyway, enjoy the read!_  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur in any way.**

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_So much for our last mission._

This morbid thought and more passed through Tristan's mind as he headed to the stables. Bad news had hit them the previous day but for some reason, Tristan wasn't all that surprised. Ever since setting eyes on the bishop, Tristan had known that man meant trouble; a habit in Romans that one, but it went over the limits of the trouble a certain person could be. He had shared Galahad's distrust toward the bishop and, in an unusual bout of nervousness, he had prayed to whatever higher entity was above them to keep them safe from whatever harm was coming their way. He had also banished every somber thought he was capable of coming up with, deciding instead to enjoy their return to the Wall and the prospect of spending an entire evening without concern for tomorrow looming over them. Enjoyed the night at the tavern, he had, because he had seen his fellow brothers in arms truly relax for once in many years; shake off that looming concern, he hadn't, because it was his job as a scout to inspect the road ahead of them.

And what a slap to the face.

Tristan was used to those outcomes in life, though; that's why he wasn't as distraught as the other knights when having received the news. He knew orders from Rome were to be followed without question, so he could only resign himself and do what was expected from him. On the other hand, he was furious, and it was no ordinary fury that was eating at him. Tristan was not afraid of death, of going out into the field and risking his life for whatever purpose, but taking up this mission for Rome meant diving head-first into a danger they had not faced before; it meant leaving behind their hopes and dreams for not-so-safekeeping and more importantly, their humanity. A load of extra work and using his scouting skills to the fullest in order to keep his comrades safe went without saying, but it was _them _-his fellow knights- that worried Tristan. He knew the Romans had watched Arthur and his knights evolve with the years into a _family_ rather than into a close-knit community. Why drive them apart now when it was their union that had earned them success in every battle fought? Why were they so bent on destroying that family?

_His _family?

Tristan paused in front of the stable door, steeling himself against the glares that would surely come once inside. His hawk suddenly swooped down and perched itself on his arm. A light smile tugged at Tristan's mouth: at least he had that one companion to have by his side. As expected, Tristan was the objective of Galahad and Bors' glares no sooner had the scout stepped inside the stable. He ignored them, though the atmosphere in the stable was enough to rattle him.

"You're late," said Galahad with noticeable scorn. Tristan shrugged and jerked his arm upwards so that his hawk flew over to its perch, which was next to Tristan's horse.

"No, you're just early," Tristan responded, then lightly bowed his head towards Dagonet. Gawain, though in no jolly mood himself, was at least much more calm than Galahad and he, too, welcomed Tristan with a bow of his head. Tristan, after a second look at Gawain, shrugged his shoulders questioningly at the blond knight.

"Couldn't sleep. I thought the wine would be enough to knock me out, but with all _his_ whining..." Gawain gestured at Galahad, who scowled with narrowed eyes. "You know I'm right, Galahad."

"And _you _know we shouldn't even be here!" Galahad protested, furiously throwing a dagger at the post opposite him. Gawain sighed.

"We're not gonna bring that up again, are we? Last night was enough arguing and thanks to Dagonet, things didn't escalate."

"Thanks to him?" Galahad echoed, his eyebrows shooting up in a mix of surprise and indignation.

"Yes, because he said what we needed to hear," Bors intervened, quickly stepping in to defend Dagonet. "Vanora helped me think about it after leavin' and you know what? We should be angry at that Germanius bastard, not Arthur. He's never broken 'is word and never will. You know 'im and you know it's the truth."

"Funny you should say that. You were the one who started it." Galahad crossed his arms and looked away, scowling even deeper than before. Tristan shared a look with Gawain and detected his very same fear in the knight's eyes: _this_ argument would be the one to escalate into a brawl. Dagonet took those fears away with a silent shake of his head. Tristan noticed Bors was actually being reasonable and was leaving Galahad to his fuming. Again, Tristan couldn't blame him. He felt some degree of pity towards Galahad; at the same time, Tristan was mad at him for not being mature enough to accept the rough turn of events.

Galahad quickly noticed Tristan's eyes on himself. "I'm sure it doesn't bother you, does it? I'm sure you hate being behind the Wall and not out in the battlefield, claiming lives with that coldblooded attitude of yours."

"Galahad, please," warned Gawain, fixing the youngest of the knights with a hard look. Tristan decided it was time to show Galahad where and _who_ to direct his anger, and so he spoke up.

"It's fine, Gawain; he's right to some extent. Though I welcome peace and quiet from time to time, I grow restless when I'm not out in battle. But even I know this mission is madness, and yet Arthur has no other choice but to take it up and force it on us. Have you stopped for a moment, Galahad, and considered what might be going through the commander's head?" At Galahad's guilty expression, Tristan knew he'd hit a nerve. "It's not just our life on the line again on our most dangerous mission so far, but also his own. Saxons? Really?" He made a pause to emphasize his next question. "Didn't you see his face yesterday night?"

"Nah, he was too drunk to," Bors piped up with a chuckle.

"Speak for yourself," Galahad bit back. He sighed, ran his hands through his curls. "Damn it. Damn it all."

"Don't do that to yourself, Galahad," said Dagonet. "You were completely right when you stood up to Arthur and I would've let you go on if it wasn't for all the Romans around. Not that I care about them or what they think of us, but it would've done us more harm than good. Tristan knows what I mean; don't you, Tris?"

"I thought that was your speech; don't get me into it," said Tristan, pointing an accusing finger at Dagonet. He'd had enough with what he'd told Galahad to straighten him up, which in turned had served Tristan to get some tension out of himself. Dagonet shrugged with an innocent look on his face and seeing Tristan had everybody's attention, the scout had no choice but to speak, not without inwardly reciting a string of Sarmatian curses.

"They want us to crack," Tristan said. "I'm convinced they thought they had shaken us by driving us away from Sarmatia, but look where we are and what we've grown into. We may have lost lives along the way, but we're still strong. The Romans knew we were near the end of our contract, and this is why they've given us this mission: so that we grew apart. I, for one, didn't want to give the Romans that satisfaction, so that's why I kept silent. But all those Roman soldiers out there in the tavern? I'm sure some of them would report back to Germanius; and that is _not_ paranoia, Bors, but the truth," he then added, knowing he was about to be teased because of his excessive attention to his surroundings. "There, I said it." He glowered at Dagonet. "Now leave me to get my things ready; next time you want a speech of that sort, warn me and I'll get as far away from you as possible."

Tristan walked over to where his armor and belongings rested, then noticed his hawk intently staring at him. The conversation among the knights continued, but Tristan wasn't listening anymore. He donned his armor -which took him some time- and then selected the blades he would take with himself; when he looked up again, the hawk hadn't moved its eyes away. Tristan frowned. "And what are you looking at, eh? You curious bird..."

"Uh, Tristan?"

"What?"

"We haven't left you out, y'know?" said Gawain with a nervous smile. Galahad, now on his horse, was looking at Tristan with a light, amused smile on his young face. "Frankly, I don't understand how you talk to it and not to us. You're too strange for our liking, Tristan, and that's a good thing."

"I always wondered where that hawk came from." Everybody turned around to see Lancelot standing by the post where Galahad's dagger had ended up in. Lancelot took the dagger, handed it back to its owner, then headed over to his horse. "If you don't mind the question, that is."

Tristan wasn't too keen on spilling that sort of information with Lancelot around -_especially_ with Lancelot- but given that he had been careful with his words -and Tristan appreciated politeness-, he could make an exception for one time. Tristan took a seat on a wooden bench and begun his explanation while assessing the state of his sword.

"He's been with me ever since I was nine. You didn't and don't see him around too much -except in missions- because he's always flying around; that's how I want him to be. To put it bluntly, he saved me from a certain death; maybe he's with me because he doesn't want me to make the same mistake twice. Either way, he's my companion..." He suspiciously looked up at Lancelot. "And _not_ a pet, in case you say something."

Lancelot raised his hands in defense. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to make that assumption. It's easy to see he's not a pet, too, so that makes things easier."

Somebody else soon joined the knights: Arthur. Galahad's sudden countenance of contempt didn't go unnoticed, but the knights didn't do anything to soothe Galahad's anger. Arthur was serene and he regarded everybody with the same respect he always did, even as Galahad circled him with his horse. The commander's gaze came to rest upon Tristan, who held it without flinching.

"I suppose you couldn't ask him," He gestured at Tristan's hawk, "to watch over all of us."

Tristan could read the message in Arthur's eyes. While not as close to him as Lancelot, Tristan had grown to be Arthur's second most trusted comrade. He finally allowed a smile to spread across his face. "Ask me and it won't be a favor, but a promise. It's my job, after all."

Arthur nodded, visibly relieved, and turned to face the rest of the knights. Before he could speak, though, Galahad dismounted his horse and solemnly looked at Arthur. "I apologize for... well, my overall behavior yesterday."

While the rest of the knights smiled at one another, Tristan remained looking at Galahad. At least the boy had reflected on what Tristan had said -or rather, what he'd been _forced_ to tell. A wide smile appeared on Arthur's face; he clasped Galahad's shoulders and said, "Apologies not accepted... because they are not needed. You were right and _in your right_ to speak like you did. You too, Bors, though I'm sure you already knew that," he then added, facing the aforementioned knight. "Trust me: what I would've given to be able to give the bishop a lesson."

"Arthur, my friend, I suggest you get in line," Gawain piped up.

"I'm surprised: it's Rome, it's the bishop -an unquestionable figure in the Catholic Church- and your direct superior... and yet you're thinking of punching him -or worse- just like Gawain told us before," said Galahad.

"He's no different from us, boy; it's the rank that keeps 'im from being at our level," said Bors, earning chuckles from everybody.

"So you see, Galahad, I'm just like all of you," Arthur admitted, his smile unfaltering. Then, to Tristan's surprise, Arthur looked at him. "Or maybe not _all_. Fortunately, we have somebody to examine things from up ahead, see things from another perspective."

"Yeah, that's always good," Dagonet said, voicing everyone's agreement.

Tristan smirked, then, "You know, I _could_ ask him to go murderous on the bishop."

"I said get in line!" Gawain protested. "I called dibs on him first."

"And something tells me he's headed right this way," Tristan said, focusing back on cleaning his sword, "so you'd better all shut up or else we'll end up far worse than we've already started."

Coincidence would have it -and the knights had thought Tristan was just teasing them-, Bishop Germanius, along with his assistant and an escort, stepped inside the stables. The knights, including Tristan, stood defiant as ever, unwilling to be deterred just because a figure of the Roman Church had joined them. Tristan could see his words had had their effect: the Romans wanted to see them crack, to see them drift apart, but now they were only stronger. They would not give out an image of discord, but one of unity. Once they were all set, Arthur and his knights set out on their journey to the north.

Along the way, Tristan was asked the very obvious and expected question by Lancelot.

"How the hell did you know he was coming?"

Tristan looked over to Arthur, who caught his gaze.

"I just happen to see things from up ahead. A different perspective, right?"

"I believe that's what I said, yes," said Arthur, slowing down so that he was next to Tristan who, after an upwards glance, jerked his arm and set his hawk free to fly. Tristan followed his companion's ascent, feeling that familiar pang of eagerness in his heart but one he had already grown used to.

One day, no matter what, he'd fly free, too.

They all would.

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_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


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